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He had taken a step toward her, but he stopped now. "Words, wench, easily said. Actions
speak plainer, and yours do not say much for you."
"Why? Because I want to kill your cousin?" she asked, then taunted, "Or because I do not
jump when you call?"
His fist slammed into his palm, telling her that her barb had struck home. At least she was
inflaming his passion, even if it was the wrong kind of passion.
"God's breath!" he swore in exasperation. "You are the most audacious woman! I see I
waste my time here again. You simply refuse to understand."
"I understand, Royce," Kristen replied levelly. "And I was willing to meet you halfway."
"Nay, you want it all your way!"
"Not so," she insisted. "I offered my word, which cost me much, for half of me still wants to
leave here and go home."
"And I cannot trust the word of anyone, woman or man, whom I have known so short a time.
Nor do I believe part of you can truly want to stay here as you are: without rights, without
hope of ever being more than a slave."
"Aye, how right you are, milord," Kristen agreed ironically. "Why indeed would I want to stay
here? Surely not because of you."
"Me?" he scoffed. "You want me to believe now that I am the reason, when you turn me away
each night? Or do you come with me tonight, Kristen?"
"Do you unchain me for good, milord?" she countered pleasantly.
"By the saints "
He did not finish, but turned on his heel with a low growl and left the room. Kristen felt like
screaming with the closing of the door.
"You accept defeat too easily, Saxon!" she spat in frustration, a little too loudly, for the door
reopened, making her gasp with the suddenness of it.
"Did I hear you right, wench?" Royce demanded in a voice too calm for the slamming back
of that door.
He left the door open for what light it provided and walked toward her slowly, purposefully.
Kristen yanked the blanket back up to her neck. She would have liked to leap to her feet, for
she felt vulnerable lying there on the floor with him now standing so far above her, next to her,
but she wasn't going to show him that she was concerned at all by his nearness. She turned
on her back instead, so she could look up at him.
"What do you think you heard?" she ventured warily.
"A challenge." His voice was still calm, but there was a definite menacing quality in that
answer. "And when you issue a challenge, you must abide by the results."
"What results?"
He bent down and swiped her blanket away in answer. In a moment his body lay atop hers,
both hands holding her head still so his mouth could descend. But before their lips met,
Kristen gave a mighty heave that tossed him off her to the side. She knew it was only the
unexpectedness that had allowed her to do that, but she took quick advantage, scrambling
over him and to her feet. But his hand caught one foot, tripping her as she took her first step
toward the door.
Kristen fell to the floor, twisted over, and kicked at Royce with her other foot, gaining her
freedom again. But he was sitting up now, and though she snatched her feet back so he
couldn't try to grab them again, she knew she would never make the door in time.
She stood up with him, backing away slowly, her arms out to ward him off. He moved to the
side, forcing her to give up the path to the door. He stopped when he effectively blocked that
only exit.
"Get back on your pallet, Kristen."
There was ominous warning in that cold order, but she stubbornly shook her head, backing
away from him to the side of the room, coming up short against the wall. There was no
escape, but she didn't really want to escape. He was finally going to force his will on her, and
though she would not give him this victory easily, she wanted the victory to be his or at
least to have him think it was his. Pride would not let her give in, but brute strength would.
Her heart was racing as she watched him strip off his belt and tunic and angrily throw them
aside. And he was angry. There was danger in that, for he could very well hurt her. He was
such a terribly big man, with immense power in his arms and hands. And he might be feeling
at this moment that he needed to beat her into submission. It was what most men would do.
But she had known the risk when she goaded him into this.
He did not move until his remaining clothes lay scattered about the floor. He had stood
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